


Much Ado About Not-Nothin’

by ORiley42



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Banter, Goofiness, M/M, Short One Shot, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: Frank complains about Hawkeye & Trapper's nighttime "extra-curriculars." As usual, no one cares! A good gay time is had.
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 20
Kudos: 74





	Much Ado About Not-Nothin’

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatched most of the first season of MASH in a day, then sat down the next morning and this tiny fic violently left my body. It’s not really even a story, just like…a scene. Maybe a scene and a half.   
> Anyway, hope y’all enjoy!

“Captain Pierce, Captain McIntyre,” Henry nodded, not quite meeting their eyes as they slouched their way into his cardboard-chic office.

“General,” Hawkeye nodded back.

“General?!” Henry bolted upright, “Where?” His eyes darted towards the liquor cabinet, as if the brass might be hiding between the whiskey and rye.

“Oh, sorry,” Trapper seamlessly picked up the bit from Hawkeye, “We just thought your promotion must have come through by this point.”

“You guys…” Henry sank back down in his chair, “Uh, Radar—”

“The complaint, sir,” Radar stuck the packet of paper in front of Henry’s eyes.

“No, the _complaint_ —oh,” Henry took the paper with a slight tremor in his hand, “Radar, you’re dismissed.” A faint ‘yessir’ sounded from beyond the swinging-shut doors.

“What has the preeminent Major Burns—” Hawkeye began.

“Premature Major Burns?” Trapper offered.

“Parenthetical Major Burns,” Hawkeye suggested.

“Antithetical.”

“Anti-medical.”

“Whatever label you stick on the man,” Henry interrupted, “these charges he’s trying to press are serious.”

Hawkeye and Trapper both paused, mouths slightly open. “Why, Henry, you usually let us work through a few letters of the alphabet before you lay the law down.”

“If you ever lay the law down,” Trapper clarified.

“If it does get laid down, it’s usually to sleep,” Hawkeye agreed, “At our feet, like a good dog.”

“Well, you don’t get mister nice dog—I mean, mister nice _Colonel_ —today.”

“We don’t?” Trapper pressed a hand to his heart.

“But I was going to let him go for a walk this afternoon, maybe even give him a little puppy bath,” Hawkeye protested.

“Major Burns,” Henry continued, a little desperate but significantly less bamboozled than he usually was by this point, “claims that you two break the rules of officer’s conduct and, uh, other things, routinely. Vigorously. On a nightly basis in the officer’s tent and, well, other tents. ‘No tent is safe’ was stated at some point.”

“That little peeping tom,” Trapper breathed, a flash of cold anger in soft eyes.

“I thought he knew better than to bother mommy and daddy when they had their special grown-up time,” Hawkeye replied, leaning back in his chair but not putting his feet up on Henry’s desk—a sign of respect equal to the seriousness of the situation.

Henry’s mouth moved in the way it did when he was rehearsing what he was about to say next and finding it lacking. “Alright. Now, now the way I see it—”

“Yes,” Hawkeye urged him on.

“—the way I see it—”

“Go on,” Trapper added.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Henry’s eyes bugged out just a titch, pretty low on the eye-bugging scale for him.

“He’s trying,” Hawkeye explained, patting Trapper’s arm.

“Maybe we should leave him to it,” Trapper suggested, making a theatrical overture towards the door.

“THE WAY I SEE IT,” Henry shouted, garnering an identical pair of faux-shocked gasps from the doctors and a genuine one from Radar, who’d popped back into the office upon anticipating his boss’ imminent railroading.

“Now, the way I see it,” Henry repeated, spitting the words out at top speed, “A little bit of circumspection, restraint, and common sense on your part could clear this up. If I don’t, well, if I don’t _see_ anything then there’s not really any thing to be seen being seen.”

“Yeah,” Pierce agreed readily, “And you’ve never not missed seeing the things that never didn’t happen that didn’t ever not happen.”

“Exactly,” Henry agreed, blinking rapidly.

“Glad we could iron all that out,” Hawkeye slapped Henry’s desk and rose, “always edifying to chat with you.”

“Edifying…” Henry echoed, slightly dazed, as Radar opened the door for Hawkeye and Trapper to exit through.

“Gee, you think he’s boggled enough?” Trapper inquired, “We don’t need a reprimand sneaking up and sputtering at us.”

“I just handed him the Gordian knot of double negatives. I’ll bet you every dollar to my name that he doesn’t cut his way out ‘til Christmas.”

“I’ll match those three bucks and double it,” Trapper shot back, tossing an arm around Hawkeye’s shoulders.

“You two,” Frank materialized in front of them, like a weak-chinned genie. “You two,” he repeated for good measure, “are a disgrace to the uniform.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Hawkeye curtseyed.

“More than a disgrace! An outrage! Degenerate, perverted, unamerican, panty-waisted traitors.”

Hawkeye dabbed at an imaginary tear, “Oh, Major Burns, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah,” Trapper agreed, “I think I just found my epitaph.”

“Indecent!” Frank followed up, but with less verve. Margaret was nowhere to be found, and he wilted like a sock on a windless day without her support. “If Colonel Blake won’t deal with you, I’ll go up the chain!”

“Up the chain? Hey, that sounds like a euphemism,” Trapper pointed out.

“Yeah, like a delicate way of saying you’re going up to heaven, into the light, making your last goodbyes…” Hawkeye gasped, “Oh, Frank, say it isn’t so?”

“Say what isn’t so?!”

“Oh, Hawk, it’s too terrible to contemplate,” Trapper rejoined, “our very own Major Burns, biting the big one.”

“Don’t be afraid, Frank. Death is just like taking a long nap. You’ve got a lot of practice with that.”

“I’m not afraid of anything! And I’m not dying, and I won’t be pulled into another of your ridiculous, cockamamie, nonsensical….” Frank trailed off, one finger pointing impotently back and forth between the two.

Hawkeye tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Hmm, you’re running strong on adjectives today, Frank, but you seem to be short a noun.”

“Hey, maybe I can spot you one, I think I’ve got a spare in a pocket somewhere…” Trapper started patting his clothes down. Hawkeye helped.

“Well, you’ve certainly got something in your pocket,” Hawkeye grinned, “but I don’t think it’s a part of speech.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Frank fumed, “Do you see?” he started gesturing towards passersby like he was fervently hailing a passing ship, “Do you see what they’re doing?”

“Hey, is it Twister?” Klinger asked, stopping by in a stunning emerald ensemble, “I’ve never seen it played standing up.”

“It’s a new edition,” Hawkeye quipped, “now it comes with a betting section and double points if you can hold your position while shotgunning tequila. Nice heels, by the way, they really show off your stems.”

“Gee, thanks, they cost me an arm and a leg. Though if I wear them in the OR, they’ll probably end up costing me my ankles too.”

Frank let out a little gurgle of rage. “This whole camp is full of—of reprobates and lunatics!”

“Well, of course,” Hawkeye let Trapper spin him into a clumsy dancer’s dip, speaking to Frank upside down, “who else would you find in the middle of a warzone?”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe more of this or something else MASH-y will happen someday, you never know! If I rewatch all 11 seasons, surely some other inspiration will strike.   
> Let me know if you enjoyed! :) <3


End file.
